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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087979">you got my heartbeat runnin' away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/handwrittenhello/pseuds/handwrittenhello'>handwrittenhello</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, He Just Doesn't Know It Yet, Himbo Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Witcher Senses, he's so oblivious folks, more like no communication, no beta we die like renfri, obligatory bath scene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:09:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/handwrittenhello/pseuds/handwrittenhello</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Geralt thought Jaskier was scared of him, and one time Jaskier made sure he knew better.</p><p>aka-<br/>Geralt: *does something scary and a little bit sexy*<br/>Jaskier: *swoons*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1095</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from Nicki Minaj's Super Bass, which I definitely did not listen to on repeat while writing this</p><p>not beta'ed, but if anyone is up for it i'd love to work with you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>1</em>.</p><p>Geralt had long gotten used to the fact that being a witcher perpetually meant being seen as incredibly intimidating at best, or, at worst, being seen as a monster. People in the villages he passed through tended to shriek, cower, hide their children, and generally act as if he were seconds away from slaughtering everyone in sight.</p><p>So it was no surprise that the bard was afraid of him, though he didn’t outwardly show it. He didn’t have to—Geralt could hear his heartbeat, hear how it spiked in fear at times when he was around Geralt. He’d first noticed it in the tavern at Posada, as the showy young man had picked his way through the crowd to approach Geralt.</p><p>“I love the way you just,” he waved a hand at Geralt, “sit in the corner and brood.” And though he was brave for daring to talk to him, not showing any signs of fear, Geralt knew he had to be scared—his palms were sweaty, his heartrate elevated, and his eyes bright. Adrenaline was kicking in—the bard’s body knew what was good for him, and was desperately trying to make him flee.</p><p>Still, the bard—he later learned his name was Jaskier, <em>buttercup</em>, which strangely suited him—tagged along, even as they were taken to the elven refuge, tied up and beaten.</p><p>By the time Geralt awoke, pounding headache quickly subsiding thanks to his witcher constitution, Jaskier’s heartrate was a steady beat in his ears, oddly calm for the tense situation.</p><p>It remained that way until they left Posada, walking along the road at the edge of the world. The bard was chattering about something or other, Geralt absentmindedly grunting when there was a pause. Jaskier’s speech ebbed and flowed like the tides. Finally Geralt grew tired of the constant noise, used to the relative silence of traveling alone, and he brought Roach to a halt. Jaskier, looking the other direction and caught up in some story, didn’t notice until he had nearly run into Roach.</p><p>“Oof—sorry, wasn’t paying attention—wait, why have we stopped?” he asked, looking around them for potential answers. His eyes landed on Geralt, who just looked at him, trying to puzzle out his strange follower.</p><p>Geralt only realized he was staring when he heard Jaskier’s heart pick up, obviously a result of the intense eye contact. With an internal <em>fuck, </em>Geralt realized it must be threatening, his golden cat eyes too inhuman to be anything but unnerving. He <em>hmm</em>ed and looked away rather than break the silence with words, which he had never been good with anyway.</p><p>Jaskier’s heartrate stayed elevated for a good while after that, though it had calmed down by the time they made camp for the night. How he was able to fall asleep in the company of someone so terrifying, so dangerous, Geralt would never know. Strange little bard indeed.</p><p> </p><p><em>2</em>.</p><p>The second time it happened, Geralt was preparing to hunt a griffin. They were dangerous beasts even to the most experienced witchers, and he wanted to make sure all his equipment was in order before setting out. They had camped at the foot of the Amell Pass for the night, ready to head deeper early the next morning.</p><p>Geralt pulled out his potions from Roach’s saddlebags, intent on sorting them. Jaskier, hearing the soft <em>clink </em>of glass bottles, looked up from where he was sitting across from the fire, idly plucking at his lute strings and composing snippets of verse.</p><p>“What are those for, then?” he asked, curious.</p><p>“They’re witcher potions.” Seeing Jaskier’s eyes light up as he opened his mouth again, he added, “And no, you cannot try one.”</p><p>“That’s not what I was going to ask!” protested Jaskier, offended. When Geralt just <em>hmm</em>ed in response, Jaskier continued. “What do they do? Are you going to drink them now?”</p><p>“No. They’re for tomorrow.” There were too many to explain their various effects, so Geralt said nothing further.</p><p>Jaskier quietly watched him sort, still plucking away at his lute, seemingly deep in thought.</p><p>When Geralt was done sorting potions, he moved on to checking over his other equipment—Roach’s saddlebags, his armor, and his swords. Everything was in order except for his silver sword, which needed sharpening—the weak metal required near constant upkeep. It rang as he pulled it free from its sheath, glinting dangerously in the flickering light of the fire.</p><p>A sharp <em>blang </em>from the lute had him looking up. Jaskier’s hands were clenched tight around the neck, knuckles white. From across the clearing, Geralt could see his throat bobbing as he swallowed heavily, lips pressed tightly together. Sure enough, when he listened for it over the sound of the crackling fire and chirping insects, Jaskier’s heart was beating a steady, rapid pace.</p><p>Of course. This was the first time he had drawn a sword in front of Jaskier, since he usually left to fulfill his contracts on his own, not willing to bring a defenseless bard to face the more dangerous parts of the Continent.</p><p>Geralt knew what kind of picture a very large witcher holding a very large sword made, and it wasn’t one that inspired calming thoughts. He slowly sheathed the sword again, studying Jaskier’s reaction closely. When he made no movement, Geralt turned to fully face him. “Jaskier.”</p><p>“Hmm? Sorry, what was that?” He was still staring at Geralt as if in a trance, mind obviously elsewhere.</p><p>“<em>Jaskier,”</em> he said again, impatiently.</p><p>The harsh tone seemed to act like a bucket of cold water thrown on him, and Jaskier blinked a couple of times before regaining his words. “Sorry, zoned out there. Where was I? Oh yes, listen to this new ballad I’m playing at Oxenfurt’s Midwinter Ball…”</p><p>He obviously wasn’t keen on discussing what had just transpired, and Geralt was <em>never</em> keen on discussing feelings, so he let his mind drift elsewhere as the upbeat sound of Jaskier’s music filled the air.</p><p> </p><p><em>3</em>.</p><p>Of all the monsters on he had ever hunted on the Continent, Geralt hated rotfiends the most. They weren’t hard to kill, but their stench was something that took hours to forget. It was always a messy affair, too, since they had the horrible habit of exploding into rotting, stinking pieces when injured.</p><p>But he had needed the coin, so after they had arrived in Velen, he found himself knee-deep in swampy muck, dodging chunks of rotten flesh as he slashed and hacked at the swarm of rotfiends.</p><p>It would be an understatement to say he desperately needed a bath after that.</p><p>He slogged his way through the streets, heading back to the Swallowtail Inn, where hopefully a warm meal, plenty of ale, and a steaming bath were waiting for him. The last strains of <em>Toss a Coin to Your Witcher </em>drifted through the air as he pushed open the door.</p><p><em>“…a coin to your witcher, a friend of humanity! </em>Thank you very much, you excellently kind folks! You’ve been a wonderful audience, and ah! Here he is, the White Wolf himself!” Jaskier raised a hand towards Geralt. “Show your appreciation for this fearless monster slayer! You all know what to do!” Finished addressing the crowd, he hopped down from the table he had been standing on and picked his way over to Geralt, dodging gold and silver pieces flying left and right. It seemed he had drummed up quite the crowd while Geralt had been gone.</p><p>On seeing up close what a disgusting mess Geralt was, his nose wrinkled and he clutched his lute closer, as if the sludge were contagious. “How am I supposed to convince people that you’re a legendary, noble hero when you insist on ruining all my hard work by walking in looking like some sort of swamp…thing?” he complained. “Good thing I had a bath drawn already, otherwise you’d be staying with Roach in the stables.”</p><p>Geralt…hadn't expected that. “Convenient,” he rumbled, turning towards their room, stripping off soggy armor as he went. Jaskier followed, though he complained about the smell every step.</p><p>“Really, have you ever heard of the brand-new invention they call soap? It’s a miracle worker, and in this case, you’ll definitely need several of those to get the stench out.”</p><p>Geralt tossed his gloves onto the chair in the corner, and his boots and belt quickly followed. Then came his shirt and pants, and at that, he realized that Jaskier had gone quiet, a rare event for him. He looked over and saw Jaskier still clutching the lute, though he was staring at Geralt’s torso with some unnamable emotion written across his face.</p><p>Oh. His scars. Geralt knew they weren’t pretty to look at, but they were a given part of life as a witcher. He sometimes forgot they were even there, only reminded in times like this, or when he visited a brothel.</p><p>To him, they were a reminder—they reminded him of all he’d been through and still come out alive, but also of every mistake he’d made, times when he had been too slow or too careless. To others, they were a brutal reminder that he wasn’t human, that he could take an unnatural amount of damage without dying. They were wicked, ugly lines that drove people away in fear or disgust.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t ask where he had gotten them, or if they hurt, which was nice, actually. He didn’t say much of anything, only released his death grip on his lute (finally), sliding the strap over his head to set it on the bed. It made a hollow <em>thunk</em> as he gently laid it down, then turned to face Geralt again, clapping his hands together. “Right! Clearly we have a lot of work before us. In, get in,” he shooed the witcher.</p><p>The chance to finally sink into the bath’s warm embrace was all Geralt had ever wanted. His eyes slipped closed as he felt his muscles unclench, then opened again in surprise as he felt soft hands gently untangling his hair.</p><p>“You know, if I had such a lustrous mane as this, you wouldn’t catch me running around swamps getting it all mucked and tangled. It’s disgusting, you can hardly even tell it’s supposed to <em>be </em>hair anymore. Honestly, do they not teach self-care at witcher school?”</p><p>“Keeping clean doesn’t matter if I’m too dead from rotfiends to care.”</p><p>“Still. <em>Standards, </em>Geralt. Thank the gods you have me now to sort this all out.” As much as he admonished Geralt, he was gentle rinsing the soap from his hair, leaving one clean witcher and one very dirty bath.</p><p>“There, now you won’t scare off half the village,” Jaskier said, drying his hands and turning away. He still seemed quieter than usual, as he puttered about their room, steadfastly not looking at Geralt. The witcher stewed silently in the bath, contemplative.</p><p>Should he try asking Jaskier what was wrong? That could lead to an uncomfortable conversation, and besides, Geralt told himself, it wasn’t as if he cared what the bard thought about him. He was a witcher, a lone hunter on the Path, and the bard could do as he wished. Geralt wanted no part in any worries he might have.</p><p><em>Jaskier is different, </em>a traitorous voice in his mind supplied. <em>He didn’t say anything about the scars, and he washed your hair. </em></p><p>Irritated, Geralt rinsed off and stepped out of the bath, already missing its warmth in the time between drying off and getting dressed.</p><p>He ordered dinner brought up to their room, seeing as he was in no mood for company (and company was probably in no mood for him. The stench really was persistent.) Jaskier, apparently, was also in no mood for company, content to sit on the bed and write in his songbook.</p><p>Against his better judgement, Geralt found himself starting a conversation. “Not going to play downstairs?” he asked, setting two plates down on the small table in their room.</p><p>“Oh, I suppose I could. I thought we were doing fine with coin, though, and I felt a bit like a quiet night in—” he cut himself off, uncharacteristically.</p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt said, unsure what he meant by it. “If this is…about earlier…” He trailed off, uncertain.</p><p>“No, no, really, everything is fine, really, in fact, now that you mention it, I actually do feel like playing, how about that! Anyways, I’ll probably be back late, don’t wait up!” After that rather frantic explanation, he fled the room, lute clutched tightly in front of him. The door clicking shut seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet that followed.</p><p><em>This is why you don’t talk about it, </em>he thought bitterly. <em>Just the thought of you and your disgusting scars is enough to cause even the most foolhardy bard to flee in terror. </em></p><p> </p><p><em>4</em>.</p><p>This was the absolute <em>last </em>time Geralt would take the bard out on a hunt. He was too loud, had <em>no </em>regard for his own safety, and Geralt was so distracted, he could barely focus on fighting the earth elemental that was currently trying to crush him.</p><p>He gritted his teeth, arms straining with the effort of blocking the crushing blow the elemental threw. His foot shifted, sending him off balance, and he had to roll out of the way as the elemental launched a rock the size of a horse at him.</p><p>“Geralt! Oh, that looked bad. Is it bad? Are you hurt?” <em>Shut up, Jaskier! </em>Geralt thought, worried the elemental would be drawn by the noise.</p><p>Unluckily for Jaskier, the elemental did indeed turn to look at him, lumbering over with murderous intent. Luckily for Geralt, that movement exposed a chink high in the back of the elemental’s neck, and he leapt on the opportunity, literally. He gathered his strength, springing up to drive his sword deep into the gap.</p><p>With a roar that could rival the gods, the elemental collapsed, missing where Jaskier stood frozen by a hair. It took a moment for the dust to settle, leaving both of them looking as if they’d been caught by a sudden dust storm. Geralt turned to Jaskier, fuming.</p><p>“What were you thinking? I told you not to draw its attention!” Geralt scolded, his heart still racing from the adrenaline and shock of having to save Jaskier. <em>You could have been hurt, or killed, </em>he didn’t say. That thought was too much to handle right now.</p><p>“I was <em>worried, </em>Geralt. How was I to know you hadn't met a horrible death by flattening? And besides, I helped! Thanks to <em>me, </em>you were able to climb up on it, and actually, that was rather exciting, wasn’t it? I can already think of several metaphors to use in this song, something with you leaping like a panther upon its prey…” He drifted off, once again lost in the world of composition.</p><p>“Jaskier!” Geralt snapped, reaching out to shake him by the shoulder. Jaskier started, eyes briefly jumping to where gloved hand met doublet-covered shoulder. Even through the multiple layers of clothing, Geralt could feel warmth radiating through. “You need to be more careful. I can’t concentrate if I’m distracted by making sure you don’t die every ten seconds.” It came out harsher than he intended, but it seemed his message got through; Jaskier’s eyes widened and his shoulders slumped. He nodded, and Geralt turned back to the collapsed form of the elemental.</p><p>Separating the head from the body was a challenge, as he had to chip away at the rock until it was weak enough he could break it off. He would need a new knife after this; it was now hopelessly dull. At least Jaskier had helped, by returning to where he had tied up Roach and leading her to Geralt.</p><p>The elemental’s head was heavy enough that Geralt chose to walk alongside Roach instead of riding. This left Geralt and Roach in front, as Jaskier walked behind them, the treacherous mountain path too narrow to support three side-by-side.</p><p>Jaskier idly chattered as they picked their way down the mountain in the grey light of dawn. Geralt half tuned him out, as he always did, concentrating instead on the sounds of the world waking up around them. Insects chirped, birds sang, a nearby creek softly babbled…</p><p>Geralt’s finely-tuned hearing caught the sound of scrabbling rock before Jaskier’s did. He looked up with alarm and saw the telltale signs of an imminent rockslide, heading straight for them. He urged on Roach, sending her ahead on the path without them.</p><p>Jaskier had only just noticed his alarm. Glancing up, he caught sight of scree tumbling down the slope, directly towards them. Geralt watched him frantically scramble backwards, as if in slow motion, heading straight for the edge.</p><p>He dove, snagging Jaskier by the waist, diverting their course away from the cliff and the cascading rocks. They landed hard, rolling a few times as Geralt tried his best to wrap his body around Jaskier’s, to protect him.</p><p>His ears rang in the wake of the rockslide and their brief tumble. His pulse pounded loudly, but even still, he could hear Jaskier’s racing pulse, almost louder than his own, as if his hearing was now attuned to it.</p><p>He realized that Jaskier, on top of experiencing the sudden fright of an almost-fall, was now also pinned underneath his heavy bulk.</p><p>Geralt quickly rolled off him, pushing away as if the bard had burned him.</p><p>He dusted himself off, leaving Jaskier to pull himself to his feet. “You alright?” he grunted.</p><p>“Oh, um, I’ll have a few bruises, I’m sure, but otherwise no. I’m fine,” he said, smiling shakily. Geralt frowned. It was unlike the bard to not viciously complain at even the smallest scrape.</p><p>He was quickly distracted, though, by the sight before him. Debris was piled up on the path down the mountain, far over the height of his head. Trying to climb over it was too dangerous; it could shift again at any moment, bringing them tumbling down the mountain with it. He would have to carefully shift and dig through it to create a path.</p><p>He sighed. This was going to be a long day.</p><p> </p><p><em>5</em>.</p><p>After more than a decade with Jaskier on the road, Geralt knew that trouble followed in his wake like corpse eaters followed in the wake of battles.</p><p>This night started much like any other; they had gotten a room to share in an inn in some shit town he couldn’t remember the name of. Geralt prowled the streets looking for a contract, while Jaskier played for coin in the local tavern.</p><p>Geralt returned with no contract, but he had heard rumors of a possible bruxa haunting the neighboring town. Jaskier was seemingly having a similarly unsuccessful night, based on the pitiful pile of coins at his feet. It was hardly enough to buy one meal; it surely wouldn’t last them the three or so days it would take to reach the neighboring town.</p><p>As soon as Geralt walked in, Jaskier brightened and hopped off the stool he was perched on, slinging his lute onto his back. He followed as Geralt made his way to their shared room.</p><p>“Not playing anymore?” Geralt asked.</p><p>“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but everyone here is a simply <em>dreadful </em>audience. Wouldn’t know quality entertainment if it hit them in the face,” he sniffed.</p><p>“Sure they don’t just dislike your wailing?” He was careful not to let any hint of a smile slip through.</p><p>Jaskier gasped, hand flying to his chest as he pretended to stagger backwards. “You—I can’t <em>believe </em>you—<em>no </em>respect, why am I even <em>friends</em> with<em>—</em>” he stuttered.</p><p>Geralt abruptly stopped on the stairs. Jaskier ran into him with a small <em>oof, </em>hands flying out to brace himself against Geralt’s back. “What was that for?” he complained.</p><p>“We’re not friends.” He felt uncomfortable, palms sweaty and stomach clenching. The thought of Jaskier being… a <em>friend, </em>someone close to him, someone he could lose… it made him want to throw up.</p><p>“What, are we not using that word? It’s been over a decade, Geralt, I don’t know what to call this except a long and beautiful friendship.”</p><p>Without thinking, Geralt whirled around, pinning the bard to the wall with ease, the beginnings of a snarl rising in his throat.</p><p>Jaskier’s heartrate rocketed up, his breath stuttering in his throat. Geralt instantly stepped back as if burned. He chanced a look at Jaskier’s face, guilt burning in his stomach.</p><p>Jaskier met his gaze for a split second; Geralt looked away just as fast, heart clenching at the gutted expression Jaskier wore.</p><p><em>Fuck, </em>why did he do that? Was he such a monster that he couldn’t control his instincts? He had come so close to hurting Jaskier—Jaskier, the one human on the entire Continent who didn’t let Geralt push him away, who looked past the ugliness of his mutations and saw someone worth following, someone worth dedicating his life to.</p><p>And Geralt had just scared the shit out of him.</p><p>Fists clenched, Geralt quickly strode to their room, leaving Jaskier standing alone in the hallway.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>damn, writing from Geralt's perspective is hard. for the record, I definitely do not agree with him here. PLEASE get yourself some therapy, bro.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt and Jaskier finally have The Feelings Talk ™ we've all been waiting for.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fair warning I wrote most of this at 3am so it may be... A Lot</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>+1</em>.</p><p>“You should leave,” Geralt told the floor as Jaskier shut the door behind him. He didn’t look up from where he sat on the bed, boots planted firmly on the ground and fists still clenched on top of his knees.</p><p>Silence followed his declaration, but Geralt didn’t dare risk a glance at the bard. He couldn’t bear seeing what Jaskier’s face might look like right now.</p><p>Footsteps gently approached the bed; he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the curtain of hair falling in front of his face would hide his expression from Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier settled on the bed next to him, far enough away not to be touching, but close enough that Geralt could feel warmth radiating from his side.</p><p>“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice was soft, so different from the boisterous bard he’d gotten to know. “Do you truly want me to leave?”</p><p>
  <em>Yes. You’ll only get hurt, following me around. If it isn't some creature that does it, it’ll be me, and I can’t live with knowing that I hurt you. </em>
</p><p>He didn’t give voice to any of his thoughts. He waited, caught between two warring impulses—one, to protect him, send him away so Geralt would never have to see him hurt, and the other, to let him in, to pull him close and never let go.</p><p>When it became clear that Geralt wasn’t going to respond, Jaskier continued. “If you truly want me gone, if I’ve done something to upset you, then I’ll apologize, and I’ll leave you alone.” He paused, allowing the words to sink in. “But if you’re pushing me away for some stupid self-sacrificing reason, if you’re scared and don’t want to show it, if you think you’re doing this for my own good… then <em>please. </em>Please rethink this. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Geralt, and I won’t lose you for no reason.” His voice had started wavering by the end, and to Geralt’s horror, when he ventured a glance up his own eyes met Jaskier’s blue ones, watery with the beginnings of tears.</p><p>“Jaskier…” Geralt whispered, heart shattering. He started to reach out, to grip Jaskier’s shoulder, to cup his face, he didn’t know. He caught himself before he could make contact. He pulled back his hand, but the movement was halted by Jaskier catching his hand in his own.</p><p>“Don’t. Don’t do that, don’t hide yourself away.” Hesitantly, he brought Geralt’s hand to his chest, right over his heart. Geralt felt its beat, steady and strong under his touch.</p><p>Geralt was touching him, had a hand spanning almost the entire width of his chest, and his heart stayed exactly the same pace.</p><p>He wasn’t scared.</p><p>“You’re not…” Geralt trailed off, feeling foolish.</p><p>“Not what?”</p><p>“Your heartrate. It’s slow. Steady, I mean.”</p><p>“Well, I am a bit surprised at that, considering how nervous I feel right now. Surprised it isn't racing. Whew.” At that, Geralt tried to pull his hand away, unwilling to cause Jaskier further distress at his touch. Jaskier didn’t let him, intertwining their fingers and forcing Geralt’s hand to remain. “No, no, it’s not you, I’m not nervous about…this. About you. How do I…” He shook his head. “I’m going about this all wrong. Is this how you feel, when you can’t find the words?” he laughed a little, then sobered again, turning to fully face Geralt.</p><p>“Okay. Alright. Do you feel that, Geralt? Listen to me now, and you'll know if I’m lying by my heartbeat. Listen.” He took a deep breath. “I think I love you, Geralt. I think I have since the first time we met, with the elves, when I realized what a good man you are. And I know that it doesn’t mean much, coming from me, I know that I fall in and out of love as easily as breathing, but with you, it feels different. It’s different, Geralt, and honestly, that fucking terrifies me.” He laughed shakily. “I don’t know what it’s like to settle down, to pick just one person to spend the rest of my life with. Then again, I guess I have practically done that already, following you around, I mean.</p><p>“And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. We can just go on like we were, and I’ll never bring it up again, I won’t even call us friends, if you don’t want.” He paused, biting his lip hard, unexpected tears welling in his eyes again. “And if you don’t want me around anymore…if this is too much, if I’ve just fucked up everything we ever had…I’ll go. You won’t have to put up with me anymore.”</p><p>Geralt clutched tight to his hand, the thought of Jaskier leaving, <em>forever</em>, almost too much. He finally found his voice after a few tries. “No. I don’t want that.”</p><p>“Me neither.” Jaskier smiled then. “But before—why did you want me to leave? If it wasn’t something I said?”</p><p>“It would be better, safer. For you.”</p><p>Jaskier laughed. “The safest I can possibly be is by your side, witcher. Honestly, you’ve saved my life too many times to even count.”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant.” Fuck, why was this so hard? How could Jaskier spill his entire heart, just like that, and Geralt could barely force out a sentence at a time?</p><p>“Oh? Then what is it?”</p><p>“I need you to be safe…from me.” He cut off Jaskier when he tried to protest. “Don’t deny it, I’ve heard the way your heart beats whenever I scare you. Even just now, in the hallway.” He frowned, still furious with himself.</p><p>Jaskier breathed out heavily. “<em>Oh. </em>Oh, no, I think you have the very wrong idea, my dear.”</p><p>Geralt was suddenly angry, angry at himself, and angry at Jaskier for so obviously lying. “Do I? Tell me, then, why it is your pulse races when I touch you, why you’re so clearly scared when you see me, see what I am, see the bloodshed that follows the Butcher of Blaviken,” he snarled.</p><p>“Geralt, <em>no. </em>You really think that? <em>Gods</em>, no. I’m not scared of you, nor do I think you’re some kind of—some kind of monster.” Jaskier took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. “I love you, Geralt, and I’m rather embarrassed to say it, but I think you’re <em>unbelievably</em> hot.” His face had turned a bright shade of red, and he was nervously biting his lip again.</p><p>Geralt’s eyes flicked to his mouth, irresistibly drawn to the movement. Jaskier noticed him looking, and did it again, deliberately, corners of his mouth curling up into a coy smile.</p><p>“Like what you see?” he teased, leaning in closer.</p><p>Geralt felt his pulse pick up under his hand, looked and saw his pupils dilate. He knew there would be no going back after this. He, too, shifted closer, until their chests were nearly touching. Jaskier’s breath puffed warmly against his face.</p><p>“Can I?” whispered Jaskier, eyes searching Geralt’s face for the answer.</p><p>“Yes,” Geralt breathed back, then took the initiative himself.</p><p>The kiss itself was simple, unhurried. As much as Geralt yearned to deepen it, he let Jaskier take the lead. It would take some time to adjust himself to the fact that Jaskier wasn’t scared of him; he was so used to pulling back, to restraining himself.</p><p>Jaskier seemed content with taking it slow. Only seconds later—but it felt like an eternity—he pulled back, eyes darting to Geralt’s face. He licked his lips, seemingly unconsciously.</p><p>Geralt slowly brought his other hand up to cup Jaskier’s face. Jaskier mirrored him, brushing a gentle thumb across his cheek, as if <em>Geralt </em>were the breakable one.</p><p>“So…does this mean I can stay?” asked Jaskier, but there was something serious underneath the bright smile he wore, something on the edge. And Geralt heard the unasked question: <em>Do you love me too?</em></p><p>“Yes,” Geralt rumbled, ducking in to kiss him again.</p><p>And again.</p><p>And again.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i'll have a lot more time to write now that the semester is over, so if you liked this, stay tuned! i'm also participating in the witcher big bang, which will be so much fun :D</p><p>Please take a minute to leave kudos or a comment if you liked it!</p>
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